Ankyra Sound lost at sea, where they will never find us

if there was a before, she did not know it. 

even the present she did not know. her survival was inexplicable, and nothing short of a miracle. the inbetween was not something she was aware of. the sea devoured her, over and over and over again, but it did not destroy her. it carried her in its womb, and now it expelled her. she had not yet awoken, though stirred within the seafoam—venus, reborn. a starfish rest upon her shoulder, and her lack of movement encouraged it to migrate downward. but the she-wolf breathed still, spent, exhausted, and on land once again. 

an emerald eye opened, and she gasped before her body spasmed and released saltwater, expelling it violently.

The Matriarch was returning from a brief trip to the Ankyra headlands when the braying of gulls drew her gaze from the bridge to the tideline where the froth hissed as the waves surged up the shore. A few pesky critters were standing nearby, heads cocked left, then right, as they investigated the Mothers latest offering. She wasn't keen to pass up a chance to fill the caches on Soteria so she altered her course, ears cupped forward. The seabirds scattered as she approached and wheeled away on the gentle wind. A carcass of some poor creature—Akantha sucked in a sharp breath as her mind began to make sense of it.

The pile was unearthly sodden heap of pale fur and bones, with two triangular ears set atop a skull that sloped into a pointed snout—a wolf. A small, chubby starfish clung to her shoulder, entangled in the ethereal cloak of the woman and feasting on the tussled strands of seaweed that clung to her damp fur. Akantha slowly raked her gaze across the prone form of the woman noting, with a surge of anticipation and relief, that she yet breathed. A sudden spasm startled Akantha and she lept backwards to put distance between them again in case of snapping teeth. The stranger retched as seawater gushed from her throat.

"Calm, Sister," Akantha crooned as she reclaimed the steps she took in retreat. "Breathe."

there were woods that soothed in a tongue foreign to her. but then there were words that made sense, heard even over the expulsion of sea from lungs. the pearl looked to the other that had spoken, ears cupped and eyes soft upon her. she spoke, voice rough with disuse but gentle and mellifluous all the same: thank-you, 

but the words produced could hardly be heard! she was weak, the strain of it was too much, and the stranger to herself, to all, felt weary, suddenly. everything was new—this place was the very place that she was born, and she began her days knowing nothing but understanding much. words, for example. and as she looked at her shoulder, she noted the seaweed there. good for healing, she knew—but she had no open wounds. it was also good for digestion... but she, in this moment, was not thinking of digestion. 

she watched the sea. mother, she felt. born by it. and as it ebbed and flowed, it bestowed upon her little trinkets. beautiful shells dotted the shore as it receded, and they did not disappear; in fact, the waters, as it lapped at her feet, only seemed to thrust the objects nearer to her. she gently picked the most lovely of the shells, which appeared to be a conch, and deposited it between her forelegs. the wolf did not know, did not think, anything was amiss; for the other who had come to her had been gentle in their greeting. 

after a moment of collecting herself, she peered upward at akantha. where am i...?

There were times in her life where she felt on top of it all. But then there were moments where she felt incredibly small. As the strange woman spent a moment taking stock of her situation, Akantha withdrew and extended herself to the Mothers in a desperate bid to glean a better understanding of her position in this. But she was met with nothing but the fathomless blue of the deepest reaches, and a serenity that enveloped her mind. 

Shimmering shells clicked and clattered as the waves cast them up the shore around the pale nymph. Her gaze immediately flickered to them as she returned to her body—the moment took no more than a second of real time, and thus undetectable even by the most perceptive of her sisters.

Akantha claimed another step and stood boldly before the newborn who was birthed onto her shores and bequeathed to her from the Mothers as if to say help her, she is ours and we are hers. The resting nymph retreived the most beautiful of the shells encircling her and deposited it delicately between her outstretched legs so that the reckless grasp of the surf did not reclaim it. Her innoculous demeanor struck chords deep within the Matriarch, and she smiled fondly. "Home." she replied as she bent to place a sweet kiss to the girl's forehead. "The Mother has kept you safe until the time came to return you to us." 

As if in response to Akantha's words, the Sea rushed up the shore to swirl around them both before retreating into the channel again.

she listened well to the other, and her thick lashes fluttered at the word the other spoke: home. the nameless one emitted a heavy sigh of relief; she had felt this to be so, but could not name it as the other had. things were forgotten, but she was reminded! the kiss was sweet, and warmed her to the core.

at the very least, she knew of The Mother—when spoken of, her eyes turned again toward the water, which in tandem with the dark ones words came to surround her. she laughed a little, the sound tired but heartfelt and delighted. home! the sea had carried her for so long! or had it? had she been deposited elsewhere, only to be taken again by the waters? none could know, not even she herself.

i am home, she breathed, feeling safe and right. The Mother had brought her here, after all, and she trusted this. tell me of you, she urged, sweetly; her ears flattened atop her crown, instinct beckoning she be mindful, of home! but to find onesself... to be found, and known... it awoke her dormant spirit.

What a treasure she was! Accepting, without qualms, the words Akantha committed to her. She attributed her absence of self to the Mothers, for this was not a wolf who called upon the familiar in her mind. No, she was a stranger, but not for long. A breath escaped the girl in the form of laughter and Akantha almost wanted to retrieve it lest she slip into the dark again. A burden was lifted from the girl, and she bloomed into radiance so bright that the Matriarch felt her legs give way beneath her. She folded her hindquarters beneath her and cast herself down upon the sand before the young nymph. 

A single paw reached out to touch the nameless woman—confirming her suspicions that this was, indeed, reality and she was not lost in a fantasy crafted by the clever Mothers to sing her to sleep. It was a move of desperation masked by a fatally sweet smile, and punctuated by a warm laugh. Yes, of course! Akantha could craft histories if only to ensnare her further. "I'm Akantha, and I lead our sect with the blessing of the Mothers Sea and Moon. We reside on the Isles—see there?" She motioned to them with a grandiose sweep of her great head, chest swelling with pride. "and I have been anxiously waiting for your return, Galateia." The name was spoken with such inflection that it could not be argued. There was no ground on which the stranger could proclaim otherwise, or so she assumed. "The Mothers spoke a name to me, and I knew it would be a boon, but I did not know it would be as wonderous as yourself."

the other buckled to their knees, and they were level—she did not flinch from the others touch, who felt no more a stranger to her than the sea had. so familiar akantha treated her that she did not doubt that in some life, they must have known one another, and she was fortunate to be born into a world where she saw their reunion even if she did not recognize it! her emerald eyes followed the lign of movement that akantha had directed, and the nameless one hummed eagerly, feeding upon the others excitement. 

her head turned toward the word, the name, said with inflection—and the name resounded within her soul, so that she knew it was hers to answer to. me, the boon! she spoke with faux-incredulity, though her tone became heartfelt and sweet again. i am blessed that The Mothers have brought me to you, Akantha; that your eyes be the first to see me, and your voice be the first that i hear. you are a boon to me—i feel that i have dreamt of your voice, though i have slept a long time... she was thoughtful for a moment, but no thoughts other than the familiarity, the unfiltered and pure love she already felt for Akantha, filled her then. 

Galateia moved to profer her own kiss to the others brow; she was committed to this life, and saw no other for herself but one near the eloquent she-wolf before her. it was her only desire.

And with just a name, Akantha claimed the once-dove from the boughs of the woodland and dragged her peacefully into the churning depths. 

A pair of steady hazel eyes observed the reactions and emotions as they broke upon her Sister, Galateia, like the waves that lapped at her hindquarters now. Though her incredulous jest drew a quick laugh from Akantha's throat, the rest of her emotional profusion was bestowed upon the thorn queen as she, herself, lay quietly by basking in the radiance of her catch and joy of a successful hunt. A connection, deep and twisting, bore into her heart as the stranger—Galateia, gifted her the trust that, in any other time, would have been sorely misplaced. 

Akantha closed her eyes and hummed a lilting of serenity as the kiss was returned to her own brow. When her eyes opened again they searched Galateia's own for a long moment before her thoughts were committed to words: "you have, but you now awaken to a new day as a sister of the Nereides." Akantha answered with cupped ears. "It is fated. You were meant for us, and we you."

and so you and i are sisters, she deduced, ears pricked atop her own regal crown—though the regality she was born with was deferential toward the other before her, her elder and her founder. she was born again! she was galateia, sister of akantha... and of the nereides. this did not feel wrong, and so she did not question it—the other spoke with such knowing that there was not a moment given for the pearl to even imagine what doubt might feel like. fated. it was the very word she had thought of, produced by the tongue of the one that had known of her coming and of her name. are the others upon the island? she inquired gently, looking over her shoulder. she, at present, was admittedly too weak to make the swim this day; she hungered, and her stomach groaned suddenly with the sharp pain of it. but she ignored it, for the moment—feeding instead upon the knowledge shared by the dark woman, who was becoming clearer to her blurred eyes as the salt bled free from them. she was aware, too, of a burning thirst that burned her throat, her tongue; the shock was wearing off, and her body was beginning to ache.

A niggling doubt presented itself in the back of her mind, and pierced through the afterglow of her success. If she was important to someone, one of the mainland packs, would they come looking? She doubted they would cross the channel, for the sandbar was a secret to most, and the unfamiliar terrain of the islands presented a dubious challenge to anyone attempting to conquer it. She looked Galateia over, ruminating, lips pulled back into a terse frown as the pale pearl observed the distant home of the Nereides. Threadbare, and wave-battered—she would not be moving far until she recovered from her ordeal.

But the kind smile returned, and wiped away the Matriarch's true feelings, when Galateia returned her attentions to her. "Yes, of course." she replied, "Kalika, Indie, and Hemithea are our sisters. Gabe and Whip are our consorts. Both young yet, but they have promise." Akantha withheld her opinions on them for now, and avoided preaching about their lesser role as the male gender. "We are a small group, but we make due. The Mothers provide for her chosen, and we lack for nothing." 

She chuckled and shook her head, "But you must be tired. Returning to the physical world is difficult on both mind and body. There are caverns just up the shore here with fresh water to drink. I will visit you every day with food, and bade my sisters do so as well, so that we may all grow closer until you are hale again."

she listened well to the words Akantha spoke, and did not know her worries. that Galateia was ever borne of anything else but the ocean was now an unfamiliar thought to her. were any to come looking and to present her with things they knew, she would not believe it; she had been born devoted, though now her devotion was to her Mother, the Sea, and the Moon—Akantha and her Sisters were extensions of this devotion, now. 

Galateia agreed with the words of Akantha; her tiredness came upon her as the waves, long ago, had. soon it would overtake her, and with Akantha's assistance, she was moved. by the time she was where she must rest, she was spent. she rest easy, thinking of the words of her Sister and now Matriarch; her days as a pupil would continue the moment she stirred.